


on track and keeping

by Eddaic



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny/Kanda, M/M, Nudity, Slash, bed sharing, can be romatic or platonic depending how you look at it, i am in rarepair hell, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddaic/pseuds/Eddaic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They get along, as strange as it may seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on track and keeping

Disclaimer: DGM ain't mine.

Warnings for mature themes and nudity (not the sexual sort).

On Track and Keeping

It took Johnny approximately two hours and twenty-six minutes to stop being afraid of Kanda. He counted on his pocket-watch.

At first he had been apprehensive, trailing after Kanda while stuttering the names of the inns and pubs they had to visit to sniff out Allen. He pelted Kanda's back with unasked questions. Once or twice Kanda threatened to skin him alive if he didn't hurry up, and Johnny released a string of embarrassing squeaks, hunching his shoulders. But eventually he came to the realisation that Kanda did not actually carry out any of his threats - even if he _had_ clobbered an entire Crow team in under a minute.

Kanda was, admittedly, surly. Well, perhaps that was an understatement. Moderately intelligent people with a vague sense of self-preservation scuttered out of his way; the braver ones threw him a dirty look as well. Only bumbling drunkards or particularly oafish sorts did their best to annoy him, and received a sound fist to the nose in response. The scowl on Kanda's face seemed a trademark, and he spoke in short, brusque sentences: _We're done here. Where's the next place? That fucking beansprout._

Soon enough Johnny just let the profanity roll off him. Kanda wasn't going to hurt him, and Johnny felt a bit silly for ever believing that he would.

Nonetheless, things had been bleak. They drank their way into the guts of the red light district, their sighs growing more audible at each 'Haven't seen him'. Kanda was in a vile mood, and Johnny would have been too, but someone had to act cheerful. The scent of the streets choked him, made a home in his nose and refused to leave: black smoke belching from chimneys and grey smoke drifting from cigarettes; the sour reek of rubbish mingling with the gelid air; the stale perfume of all the tired, painted women who had slogged in this godforsaken place for too long, serving stinking men who made love to their own egos. The district rushed by in a flurry of satin and lace and sweat.

"He's gotta be here," said Kanda through gritted teeth. His face was white with anger and fatigue, though two bright spots had formed on his cheeks from all the cheap alcohol. " _Somewhere_ here."

Johnny wiped his nose and forced a smile. There was noise, so much noise. People chattering, music blaring, grating on his nerves despite himself. "I'm sure we'll find him."

One night, after imbibing more than a wise number of drinks, they staggered into a place where women with painted cheeks wore black cat ears and brandished elegant, scarlet nails. Three of them eyed Kanda appreciatively, giggling and whispering to each other. One of them sidled up to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and stroked his covered chest with a long finger. The finger feathered up his neck, trailed the length of his jaw, and brushed against his full lower lip. Johnny tensed and bent his knees, ready to spring over.

Nearby, the two remaining women grinned and squeezed each other's hands, evidently excited for their friend's catch.

The woman whispered something in Kanda's ear, her lipstick-greasy lips bright against her skin, and Johnny had a feeling that, even if the music had not been so loud, he would not have been able to hear what she said. Kanda's jaw tightened. He firmly – but gently – pried the woman off him and strode over to the bar.

Johnny sighed in relief, elbowed his way through the crowd, and plumped down beside Kanda on a rickety stool.

They ordered half a pint of beer each, and Johnny fished out his collection of Allen's receipts, along with his photograph with Jiji. Beside him, Kanda released a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, glossy with sweat. Johnny held up the photograph as the barrel-chested bartender brought them their drinks and said, "Hey, ma', you see' this kid? The one wi' the whi' hair?"

The bartender peered at the photograph, glanced at Johnny and Kanda with a raised eyebrow and a curl of his lip, and answered in the negative.

Johnny jumped half a foot in the air when he felt Kanda brush against him. He turned to see Kanda groaning softly and swaying in his seat. "Fuck...this is so fuckin' stupid," Kanda mumbled, massaging his forehead. He straightened up and reached for the collection of receipts, prying them out of Johnny's fingers. His skin was warm and damp.

"I, ah," Johnny stuttered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. _That's it_ , he thought, _no more drinks tonight._ "Let's find some place to crash. I'm a little tired."

Kanda flipped through the receipts, scowling, and at length gave up and tossed them back to Johnny. "Fine. Let's go." He grabbed his beer and drained it. His throat worked, glistening in the warm light of the chandeliers.

Johnny desperately reminded himself of all the times Kanda had been a colossal jerk, and drew a blank. Squeezing his eyes shut, he racked his brains. It was no good. People talked about Kanda like he was some raving demon who'd send you on a (possibly one-way) trip to the infirmary, but the real Kanda didn't quite match up to the rumours. Kanda was snappish, perhaps, and at times insensitive, but not malicious. Certainly not cruel. After all, he was here, with Johnny, despite everything that had happened...

Kanda was staring into his empty glass, a little furrow between his brows. The line of his mouth was soft, contemplative.

"Kanda?" Johnny said, concerned. Vaguely aware that he was being suicidal, he reached out a hand, intending to place it on Kanda's shoulder.

Kanda slid off his stool before Johnny could touch him. "Let's get out of here." He headed for the exit, stumbling a bit, and Johnny scrambled after him, tucking his papers back into his pocket.

They scouted for a cheap place to crash for the night. Johnny found himself growing increasingly anxious with each declaration of price and subsequently rejected motel. He had left the Order with a wallet stuffed with money, but the idea of a fellow (penniless) traveller had not crossed his mind. Yet he could not bring himself to suggest sleeping on the streets a few times, even if Kanda wasn't the sort to fuss about where he lay down.

Johnny's heart began to hammer against his chest, and he drew several deep breaths. Stopping by a lamppost, he bent over, holding his knees.

"Hey," Kanda called from ahead, sounding annoyed. "What did you slow down for?"

 _Not now_ , Johnny thought. _This is not the time to get panicked._ He shook his head and walked on, trying not to feel hurt that Kanda appeared unconcerned. _This is Kanda, for God's sake. What do you expect? He's not going to kiss anyone's boo boo and coo at them. Get a grip, Gill; he's even harder on himself than on others._

At length, after what seemed like an endless string of disappointments, they stumbled upon a suitably cheap inn. By this time they were used to sharing a room, but the only one available this time had a single queen-sized bed. They could fit on it. Technically. They would both get an elbow in the ribs and a knee in the crotch.

"I'll take the floor," said Kanda, placing Mugen in a corner. Johnny was secretly relieved; despite his efforts, he was still a little wounded from Kanda's earlier impassiveness, and had no desire to be in close proximity with him. Still, he didn't relish the idea of Kanda sleeping on a cold, filth-sticky floor, so he said, "Are you sure? The bed is big enough – "

"I'm not sharing a bed with _you_."

Johnny's patience had worn thin. "Well, I paid for this room, so you might as well use the facilities in it," he snapped, throwing his bag on the bed. "This is ridiculous."

There was a tense silence. Johnny knew that he was being unreasonable. He wasn't _looking_ for a fight, and yet...

Kanda narrowed his eyes and said, "What's with you?" He straightened to his full height. Johnny was afraid that Kanda was going to sock him, and began to backpedal. But Kanda strode to the window and yanked it open. Johnny cringed at the discordant noise; the window had clearly been jammed shut before. A cool breeze rushed in, ruffling the stained curtains.

"Maybe you need some more fresh air," Kanda said coldly.

Johnny looked down at his own boots and mumbled an apology. Exhaustion suddenly swamping him, he stuck his knuckles in his eyes and collapsed onto the bed. "I'm going to take a bath," he groaned. The rank filth was everywhere, between his toes and in his armpits and around his neck, sinking into the fabric of his starched collar. He was repulsed by his own smell. There was no way he was going to bed in this state, even if he was dead on his feet.

Their room was right next to the communal bathroom, so Johnny pulled out his threadbare polka-dotted towel (Kanda rather conspicuously rolled his eyes when Johnny did this) and made his way there. After dousing himself in cold water and scrubbing himself raw with soap that didn't lather, he felt a bit more refreshed.

He returned to the room and froze. The window was still open. Kanda was not there and neither was Mugen.

Johnny's fingers clutched the towel around his waist, and his heart began to hammer against his chest. It was so loud he it appeared to be right in his ears. A line of cold sweat formed on his brow. Where was Kanda? Did something happen? Did he just...leave? Leave like Allen had and Suman too and Tapp, yes, two of them were dead and now Kanda had gone and it was Johnny's fault, it was, and he was alone, _all_ _alone_ , and –

The floor dropped two feet. Gasping, Johnny lurched sideways and groped for something to hold. His hand found only air and he hit the ground, letting go of his towel. No! This couldn't happen now. Not here. "K – _Kanda_ ," he yelled. "Kanda!" Kanda had to be somewhere here. He _had_ to.

The room was spinning. Johnny's stomach churned from the sickly light of the lamps. He released a long half-moan, half-sob. "Someone! _Help_!" He did not want any stranger to see him naked and so pathetic, but he was desperate. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Help," he whispered, curling up. "Help, please."

Then someone was lifting him off the floor and making him sit up. A firm hand was on his back. Johnny opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness. "Kanda? I was – I – "

"Hey, shh," Kanda said. His gaze was soft. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over Johnny's back. "Count with me. Come on. One."

"O – one," Johnny managed to choke out.

"Two."

By the time they got to fourteen, Johnny's heart had steadied and the room had stopped spinning.

Kanda straightened his back so he was no longer bending over Johnny. "Better?" he asked.

It was as if the weight of the world was suddenly too heavy to hold up, and Johnny's eyes began to sting. He struggled up, feeling sobs bubble up in his chest. Weakly he slung his arms around Kanda's neck and buried his face in his shoulder. Kanda was warm and firm and smelled very nice, like lotus flowers and steel, and Johnny breathed deep even as hot tears dribbled down his cheeks.

He didn't particularly care at this point that he hadn't a stitch on, but he disliked the idea that he was making Kanda uncomfortable, so he burbled, "I'm sorry. Kanda. I'm sorry." It was silly, inadequate. He wasn't even being clear about what he was sorry about; and if scientists weren't clear, they were nothing. Reever always had a fit if there was a trace of vagueness in a paper.

To Johnny's surprise he felt Kanda put his arms around him. "Don't apologise, fool," said Kanda.

That only made Johnny cry harder. Kanda's coat was getting soaked and Johnny felt bad about that, too. "I'm so sorry, Kanda," he said, quite aware that he sounded like a broken record. "I'm twenty-six and you're only nineteen and I should be taking care of you. And instead I've taken you on this wild goose chase and you've saved my life so many times and I've put you in danger and I hate that you're always getting hurt and – "

"Johnny," said Kanda in a firm voice, "I don't give two shits about how old we are. You haven't put me in any danger; this is _my_ choice, you hear me?"

Johnny squeezed Kanda's shoulder and forced himself to nod. Kanda grunted in response and shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged. "Are you gonna let go of me, you leech?"

"Where were you?" Johnny whispered against Kanda's skin.

Kanda sighed. "I went outside for a walk to clear my head. Came back to hear you screaming blue murder. Thanks for the miniature heart attack."

"You should be happy; I gave it to you for free," Johnny returned in an ill attempt at humour.

"Oh my God," said Kanda. "Shut up. If I hear another bad joke I'm going to cut you." But his tone did not match his words, and Johnny only felt warm fondness spreading through his chest.

Johnny sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Kanda was being so _nice_ to him. Why was he being so nice? A mess of a human being like Johnny didn't deserve someone always trailing after him to save his life. Still in a stupor, he tried to reach up to plant a kiss on Kanda's cheek. He missed and kissed the corner of his lips instead, but that was fine; it showed his affection well enough.

Kanda stiffened, and Johnny began to wonder if he had made a colossal mistake. But then Kanda said slowly, "What was that for?" in a voice that was more bewildered than angry.

Johnny toyed with one of the metal buttons on Kanda's uniform, and vaguely noticed the dirt beneath his nails. Exhaustion was pulling his eyelids down. "For just...being here, I guess," he mumbled, and yawned.

Kanda was silent for a long moment. His heart beat rhythmically, soothingly, in Johnny's ear. At length Kanda said, "Let's get you into some clothes," and rolled Johnny off him. Johnny landed with a soft _fwump_ on the grime-speckled wooden floor and subconsciously released a tired groan.

Things were a haze for Johnny after that. Kanda retrieved Johnny's striped pajamas from the bed and wriggled them on him, his hands callused and dry, but not rough. Then he left and it was cold, and at first Johnny grew frightened that he was alone again, but the lights went out and he heard Kanda kneel beside him once more.

Kanda picked Johnny up, as if he were a rag doll, and placed him on the bed, pulling the covers over him to his chin. Johnny refused to let go of Kanda, even in his somnambulant state. He yearned for something warm and solid beside him - something, anything he could cling to in the midst of this hundred-year war. "Sleep here," he mumbled, aware of the whiny note that had crept into his voice. "No floor."

"Johnny," hissed Kanda, sounding disgusted. But his tone was weak, and Johnny had few problems in convincing him to slip into the covers. The mattress dipped and squealed, and without hesitation Johnny flung his arm around Kanda's torso and snuggled into him. Kanda tensed for a moment, as if afraid, but then relaxed, and Johnny was happy, happy that his friend could perhaps let down his guard, forget about Mugen and Akuma and the Order, and bask in peace, if only for a few moments.

Closing his eyes, Johnny whispered, "Thank you," before slipping into a strange dream where tall stalks of wheat obstructed his vision and the mingled scents of lotus flowers and blood hung thick in the air.

-end-

 


End file.
